


Of Mummers and Dragons

by CoilingThoughts, IceCladShade



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon Agrees, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, But Not Entirely Freely, Concubines, Cumplay, Dubious Consent, Fucked Stupid, Large Cock, M/M, M/M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Warlord Rhaego, We wrote this instead of sleeping, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoilingThoughts/pseuds/CoilingThoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCladShade/pseuds/IceCladShade
Summary: When Aegon VI Targaryen is defeated outside the walls of Volantis by the forces of a Daothraki Khal, he what he expects is quite different to what he gets.
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen/Rhaego (ASoIaF), Jon Snow/Aegon VI Targaryen, Jon Snow/Rhaego (ASoIaF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79





	Of Mummers and Dragons

Aegon wasn't sure what woke him from his unconsciousness. The slightly sweet and spicy scent surrounding him, the soft fabrics brushing over bare skin, the quiet shuffling of a figure next to him, or the mummering of voices in various tongues. All of these may have played a role in it, but when looking back on it later, it would have to be the slight tingling sensation inside him, wet and slick. 

Bright purple eyes creaked open, finding a rich red of a pillow that his face was shoved into. Aegon lay on his stomach, body still aching as the tinging sensation continued. The next thing he noticed was that he'd been striped of his armour, and his padding, and every stitch of covering he'd donned before that battle. He could feel the person next to him shift slightly, and he tensed to strike out at the unknown individual when they spoke up. Their voice calm and steady. 

"It's about time you woke. He was worried he hit you over the head too hard in that last clash," they spoke. "And I know that you're thinking of trying something, but don't, there's plenty of guards who would be on you in a moment if they heard something, and that's if you could beat me in your current state."

He relaxed himself slightly, and while doubting that the stranger could overpower him, he knew that he wouldn't be able to beat a guard in his current state, as bare and unarmed as he was. He managed to lift his head enough to turn it to the side and see where he was being kept. 

Aegon blinked, then again. He knew that he was in somewhere well appointed, at least based on the fabric he could feel against him, but what he saw was opulent, right out of the most extravagant pleasure houses in the free cities. Rich fabrics filled the room, dozens of pillows and pitches of wine were scattered around the large tent. The light of a fire could be seen flickering outside the closed flap, but outside he could hear the bustling of an army camp. 

"He'll be here soon, and I can explain after," the voice said again, drawing his gaze from his surroundings to the speaker. The person was well built, and as bare as Aegon found himself. They were nearly hairless, only a trimmed bush over his weighty cock and a light patch decorating the valley between his large pecs. Their skin was paler than any he'd seen in Essos and stretched over muscles built from years of harsh training. Moving up his body, he saw their face was as attractive as the rest of them. Stormy grey eyes and wavy dark hair. He had a faint curve of hair above his lip and a short, well trimmed beard.

Aegon took a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment to try and steady himself. For a heartbeat he wished Griff was here - or Jon Connington, rather, the man who had raised him as his son, and who he had thought was his father until... really not so long ago. Then he remembered his state of undress, and was rather thankful his father-figure wasn't present.

Regardless, though, the thought of the old lord had brought a little sense to his mind, and he pulled himself up into a sitting position, doing his best to ignore his nakedness and the strange sensation that was making its way up from the base of his spine. The last he remembered was the battle against the Dothraki, their wild riders circling around and pinning his contingent of knights. Then all had been chaos and steel and blood, and the blackness. He had clearly been taken prisoner, and given the lack of throbbing in his head, it must have been a while he was out. Why strip him, though? Were they so afraid he would run?

"Who are you?" he asked, doing his best to present himself with what measure of kingly dignity that he could.

"Jon Stark," the now named Jon said, and Aegon felt a flush of something run through him. He'd heard of the Stark family, ones responsible for helping the man who killed his father and grandfather, who helped rip the throne from House Targaryan. But at the same time, he felt a flush of arousal at the sight of the him. He suppressed that urge, in favor of learning more of his situation. 

"Where are we?" he questioned, trying to press for more information.

"Not far from the battlefield, maybe a half days away. If you mean this tent..." Stark trailed off, "This is the tent of the concubines of the Vezh fin saja rhaesheseres," he said, the rough words of what he vaguely recognized as Dothraki coming from his mouth. 

"And why am I being kept in the tent for concubines, let alone with another man?" a feeling of dread settling in his stomach at the implications. He didn't recognize the Dothraki words, but just being in a concubine tent had great implications for what may happen next.

"You are being kept in the concubines' tent because I will it so," came a deeper voice, "And with another man, because he is my concubine." Aegon turned towards where it came from, the flap of the tent, and unconsciously leaned back as the source entered. 

He was a giant of a man, both tall and broad with muscle, and with chest bared. Around his waist was a belt with many golden medallions, and he was clad in a waist-wrap and pants of leather, in the Dothraki style. He would have been the very image of the horse-lords, were it not for two things. His hair, worn in a long braid strung with bells which softly chimed as he strode into the tent, was of silver-white, more so even than Aegon's own, and his eyes gleamed purple in the light of the flickering braziers which sent incensed smoke curling lazily towards the roof of the tent. 

Aegon had never seen this man before, but he knew him by reputation. Khal Rhaego, who had arisen in the east not a year ago, as if from nowhere, and swept west to conquer. His army had been almost beyond number, and the But they had been caught in the city of Volantis before they could make their escape to the Narrow Sea. Khal Rhaego, called Breaker of Chains, for the slaves he had freed, and the Rider Over Walls, for the cities he had cast down.

The pale Westerosi, the Stark, rose to meet the khal as he entered, treating Aegon to a view of his pale behind and pink hole. The Dothraki swept the dark-haired man up to him in one arm and met his lips in a deep kiss. The Targaryen claimant could feel the blush rising on his cheeks as he watched their tongues duel back and forth, and Jon's cock rise. It reminded him absurdly of a dog wagging its tail as its master returned.

After a long moment, the Dothraki released the Stark and stepped past him, sinking down onto a cushioned divan and sitting with his legs held apart. Some part of Aegon wondered if it was habit from the horse-riding. The khal's eyes surveyed the crownless king assessingly.

Rhaego took in the sight of his newest prize, bereft of arms and armour. The younger man looked to be of his majority, from what he recalled the man would ne nearing his nineteenth year, and from what he could tell, he'd used his formative years well. His body was toned and well built, slim and lithe compared to the solid build of Jon or his own form, and bereft of hair except that present atop his head and beneath his arms. Yet Rhaego knew from their battle that the younger man was a strong fighter.

Silvery hair fell in waves to his chin, the last of the dark dye was clinging to tips of his hair still. His position on the bed of pillows, still spayed out enticingly, showed of his ample ass, large and smooth, pale and enticing. He could feel his manhood stirring at the thought of what he would be doing with the man soon, and the sounds that he would surely make.

Holding up a hand towards his defeated foe, he beckoned him over. "Come closer."

For a moment, the would-be king almost submitted. Then the fire of pride kindled within him, and he withheld himself. "Why should I?" Aegon asked. "You have defeated me in battle, yea, but you have not treated me as befits a royal captive; you have stripped me, and thrown me in your - sparse - harem. What, are you so miserly that you cannot spare a captive his clothing, just as you can only keep one concubine?"

A spike of anger flickered in Rhaego, feeding his words. A hard glare forming on his face as he stared at Aegon. "I treat you, and dress you, as your station dictates. The one you will serve in until I release you from mine service," he said, voice unrelenting. "The rest of my harem remains behind at the main camp, lest they be injured should the battle turn in our opponents favor," he continued, before shooting a mocking grin. "But that clearly wasn't warranted, by how swiftly your forces fell after their leader did. Clearly the men are so enthralled by you that seeing your defeat crushed their will to fight."

Aegon blinked, then the Dothraki's meaning dawned on him. "You mean to make me a concubine?" he asked, regal tone slipping into incredulity. In physical terms, it wasn't such a horrible proposition - the young Targaryen knew that he found the bodies of men as comely as those of women, and Rhaego was a handsome man. But for his pride it was a deadly insult.

"It's really not a punishment," Jon Stark said, reclining on a long, low cushion such that his head was almost by Rhaego's right hand. The position showed off the whole length of his body and cock together. "I had scarce less power than you - more, mayhaps, given my kingdom was mine in truth, rather than a dream. But I'm more happy here than I was on the throne of the North."

"Yes, I've decided that you would serve well at my side, and for my future conquests," Rhaego says, his hand moving to Jon's head and slowly stroking through the silky strands. His favored concubine was always eager for his touch, willing to do whatever was needed to earn his favor. "Jon will tell you more, but after you've been claimed," he said, moving his left hand to his crotch, giving his hardening cock a shake.

"Claimed?" Aegon asked with trepidation. At the base of his spine, the strange tingling, almost empty feeling was becoming mighty ominous.

"Claimed," Rhaego said again, licking his lips as he withdrew his hands from Jon's hair. He gave a final pat on the head before moving his leg slightly. Jon reluctantly got up from his side and moved to the side of the tent, settling into another pile of cushions, settling in to watch what he was about to do to Aegon. 

"Now, attend to me."

"Wh-why should I?" the Targaryen asked. "It is not my duty as a prisoner of war." His cursed body betrayed him, though, heat rising to his cheeks, and his cock starting to harden. He had always felt a duty to tend to the needs of others, and his previous lovers had universally called him a giving and generous one. He liked that. But this... demand, called to a different kind of desire.

Rhaego remained silent for a moment, watching as Aegon began to flush, his eyes flickering to him and then away. "Why wouldn't you? I can see it in your eyes, your body calls for me. Demands that you pleasure me," he said, leaning back, jutting out his hips slightly, his hardening cock clearly tenting through the leather of his pants. "Why resist? Why deny what you want? I assure you that my harem is treated well, and you'll live out your life surrounded by pleasure."

"Pleasure is not my desire!" Aegon snapped. "I am a king! My desire is to rule, to see my people treated well! I cannot do that if I am some... warlord's harlot!"

"You think I take the unqualified into my harem? Many who serve my pleasure are leaders of men. rulers of cities or leaders of armies. Your people shall be mine one day, and should you prove yourself capable, their rule may be passed onto you, should my trust be earned," Rhaego spoke. He could feel his patience running short as Aegon continued to resist, but still held himself. ''Tis better they come of their own will, rather than broken like a wild horse. he thought.

Aegon thought on this, breathing to calm himself. It was true that he had been defeated. He knew not the state of his forces, or even of Griff. It would be better to play along now. A final show of resistance would sell it, though. "If you swear, by the Seven Who are One, and by whatever god or gods you hold to, that you speak truth, and you tell me the fate of my-" his voice skipped a moment "Mentor, Jon Connington, I will... do as you ask."

A spark of irritation remained, but Rhaego knew that this was likely the best bet he had and gaining the cooperation of Aegon. "Very well. By the Seven Gods, the Old Gods of the First Men and the Great Stallion, that my words have been without falsehood," he said, seeing that Aegon seemed to relax a small amount at his words. "As for your mentor. He was injured in battle, only enough to remove him from the fight. He currently rests in our healing tent, under guard. They have orders not to harm him, and he should not wake for some time yet."

Aegon gave a sigh of relief. Then his eyes flicked back up to the warlord reclining on his couch. "Then, as an honorable prince, it is my duty to uphold my end of the bargain. Before gods and men." Aegon climbed to his feet and walked over to the Dothraki, trying to ignore the way his cock jumped against his pale thighs. When he actually reached him, however, he found himself in a conundrum. "W-what do you want me to do?" he asked.

An exasperated sigh came from his left. He looked over at the Stark. "Get his cock out," Jon said, looking at the prince like he was an idiot.

"O-oh," Aegon said, feeling very stupid. He looked down at the Khal's pants, the complex array of belt and leathers, and the bulge beneath, and set to work. His fingers were inexpert, and he didn't really know where to start.

"On the left, the dangling bit of leather," Rhaego said, amused at his confusion, and remembering how Jon was the first time he had him try to do this. "You'll learn, Jon can do it with only his mouth at his point," he said, giving his Northern concubine a wink.

Aegon blushed, and moved his fingers to the piece of leather. Pulling it revealed it to be a buckle of sorts, and with a place to start he began to move forward, setting the golden belt aside, and then undoing the ties at the front of the horseman's pants.

As he watched Aegon work, Rhaego moved his hand to the mostly slivery hair, lightly threading his fingers through the strands. "Keep going pet," he said softly.

The Targaryen felt the Dothraki's hand on his head, playing with his hear as his hands pulled the last ties apart, revealing the silver-white bush of pubes beneath, and the base of the warlord's member. Even from what little he could see, he could tell it was tremendous, pointing down the larger man's leg beneath the leather. With a sense of trepidation, he reached inside and grasped it, hot and throbbing in his hands, and drew it out.

"Mmm, that's it pet, like what you see?" Rhaego taunted, knowing exactly what Aegon was likely thinking at the sight of his cock. He';d heard all about it from Jon, and the rest of his concubines, Looking further down his body, he could see Aegon's cock jumped when his cock was fully revealed, the seven inch shaft lightly throbbing.

"It's, ah, very impressive, ser," the Targaryen said. Seven gods and one, he could smell it, a musky scent that teased his nose and spoke of sheer virility and lust. "How do you wish me to... attend you?"

"Get me hard first, pet. Your hands and mouth. You'll become very familiar with my taste in the coming days," Rhaego said. He knew that Jon and the others often enjoyed his taste, and was eager to see how his newest pet would react.

Aegon nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. He put a hand around the great shaft, and was surprised when he felt an irregularity on the underside. Lifting it, he saw a series of metal piercings which ran up it like the rungs of a ladder. He frowned for a moment, wondering how they would work with... well, handling the organ, but quickly decided that if the Dothraki didn't like it, he could tell him, and if he'd had the piercings done in the first place, it was probably because he did like it.

Hesitantly at first, he began to run his hand up and down the Khal's cock, using the steady drip of precum from the tip to ease the way. It began to come to life in his hand, hardening slowly but steadily. Remembering the second part of Rhaego's instructions, the Targaryen sank to his knees and looked at the cock. It had seemed like a good idea when he was standing, but now that he was kneeling, the sheer size of it made him fear he'd never be able to take it in his mouth. A foot long if it was an inch, and near as thick around as his wrist. He looked up at the Dothraki, trying to communicate his feelings.

"Go on pet, all my concubines can take at least a few inches. Let's see how pliant your throat is," he said, eager to see just how much training he would have to subject Aegon to in the arts of pleasure.

The Targryen gulped, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth, guiding the head of the cock to his lips. It was hot, and the scnet was stronger this close, but he managed to take the bell-end in, though it stretched his jaw to avoid touching teeth to it.

"That's it, good that you're mindful of the teeth. Now try to sink lower pet, relax your throat and sink down on me," Rhaego instructed, resisting the urge to take fistfulls of silvery hair and fuck Aegons face.

The Targaryen closed his eyes and did his best to follow the instructions, pushing further down on the cock. He felt the warm, smooth metal of the first piercing against his lips, and not long after the head of the cock against the top of his throat.

He felt as he bumped against the back of Aegon's throat, his cock jumping at the opportunity to claim another hole for itself. His pets tongue was toying with the first bar decorating his cock, stroking along the warm metal as his cock pressed deeper still.

Aegon felt the jump inside his mouth, making a wet sound around the member's head. He reached forward and put his hands on the Dothraki's thighs, steadying himself as he pushed forwards a little more. He felt the pressure at the back of his throat building, but at the same time he could taste the salty savor of the man's pre, and despite himself he couldn't help but admit he wanted more.

"That's it, now relax pet, or this next bit may hurt, and I'd rather not have your pretty voice ruined," Rhaego said, moving his hand to the back of Aegon's head and laying it there, his fingers tangled between the strands. Gradually, he began to press down on the back of his head, forcing the head of his cock around the bed, letting him slip down the upstart kings throat.

Aegon felt the member pressing in and did his best to open up his throat to admit it. He felt the fat head push down past the top of his throat, felt it bulge out his neck. A second bar of metal kissed his lips. He screwed his eyes shut, trying his best to do as the Dothraki asked, but he could only last so long before his gag reflex kicked in and he began to choke around the great cock. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw that he'd only taken maybe four, five inches total.

His hands still tangled in Ageon's hair, Rhaego tightened his grip and pulled the smaller male off his cock, enjoying the sight of watching his lips stretched wide around his girth, the satisfying 'pop' as it broke free from the hungry mouth, and the mix of pre and saliva that followed, spluttering against pale skin and slowly flowing down his body. 

"Good pet. You will learn to take more in time, but now I must claim you," he said, shifting to spread his legs further. "Get on."

Aegon coughed, then looked up at the Dothraki, then down at his cock. It dawned on him what the Khal wanted. He shook his head. "There's no way I can take that," he protested, voice rough.

"You can, and you will," Rhaego replied, his voice unrelenting. "Jon prepared you while you slept pet. Salves and potions to make you more.... accommodating, to a stallion such as I. You will feel it, but there shan't be any damage, only pleasure."

"...What? Is this some kind of... bizarre sorcery?" But his mind went to the odd tingling, which had been replaced now entirely by a feeling of vague emptiness.

"Of a sorts. a mix of sorcery and special herbs that help the body adapt. Nothing harmful was used on you. I would not have a concubine altered in such a way that would do them ill."

Even so, Aegon was hesitant. Despite the certainty of the Khal's words, the young Targaryen found his eye drawn to the great length, and failed when he tried to picture taking it inside. He shuffled backwards unconsciously.

The spark of irritation flared again as Aegon resisted him, his voice harsher when he spoke again. "If you don't get of me pet, then I'll mount you like a stallion does a mare and take my pleasure as I wish it, rather than let you control your first time being mounted by one such as I. Think carefully, for my lust is nigh insatiable once I unbridled it."

The harsh tone just made the Targaryen resist more, pulling away further.

"Well, I did warn you," Rhaego said, his legs tensing before he flew at Aegon, throwing him down. Quickly flipping him over and shoving him into a mound of pillows, one of his hands pinning both of the struggling males whole his others slipped between the pale mounds of his ass, stroking over the already lubed hole. 

"Don't worry too much pet. You'll enjoy this."

Aegon struggled and writhed, arms and legs flailing, but they beat against soft cushions and hard muscles. He felt the grip on his hands shift and looked up to see Jon holding them down into the cushions instead of Rhaego. "Don't worry," he said with a soft, caring smile. "Just go with it; you'll love it before long."

Rather than slam right in, be shifted slightly, his other hand not free, using it to pull Aegon's ass apart. Between the pert cheeks was a small, pink, hairless hole, glistening with the elixir Jon had poured in earlier. His hands crept closer, fingers brushing along the rim as they sank towards it, until the tip one one finger pressed against the hole, easily slipping inside, slowly thrusting and twisting inside his pet.

Aegon continued to try and wriggle out of the two men's grip, but it was futile. When he felt a pressure against this hole he tried to pull away from it, fearing that it was the Khal's cock, but there was nowhere for him to go. To his relief, when it pushed inside it was far smaller than that monster would have been. He felt no real pain or stretch from it, and its movements inside and the rough, calloused texture drew a small groan from him.

Hearing the sound, Rhaego gave a small smirk, a second finger easily slipping in alongside the first, now scissoring and stretching the wet hole open. His twisting and thrusting intensified as a third finger easily joined the earlier two. 

"Enjoying this pet? Don't you regret resisting now? Want me to fully claim your last hole?"

"J-just get it over with," the Targaryen ground out, but the words were broken and undermined by the pleasure that sparked through his body at the Dothraki's ministrations, and constantly threatened to burst from his mouth.

Rhaego didn't respond, just slipping his fingers out of Aegon before repositioning himself slightly, letting his throbbing cock slap forward with a resounding 'spank' as it landed between the right buns, his weeping head pressing against the stretched hole. 

Without any fanfare, he pressed in, his thick head only meeting minimal resistance as it slipped inside.

Aegon yelped despite himself as he felt the thick cock fall between his cheeks, then cried out again as the head entered him. He felt the stretch more clearly than he had with the fingers, but true to the Dothraki's word, there was no pain. He simply felt... filled. Instinctively, his hole closed a little around the bulbous head, as if embracing it.

He took a moment to enjoy his pets sounds, the sensation of a tight hole enveloping the tip of his cock and the anticipation for what it would feel like in a few moments. He slowly lowered himself into Aegon, his cock sinking in without pause as he plastered himself against the smaller man's back.

The Targaryen's low cry turned into a long, drawn-out one somewhere between a gasp and a stumbling wail as the Dothraki's member pushed further and further inside. No matter how far it went, the pain never came, but he felt full and stuffed in a way he never had, not with any of his previous lovers. He felt the piercings on the underside of the cock catch momentarily on his rim then slip in, one by one. Each bar slid over his prostate, pressing and rubbing on it as it was pushed further in. 

He was caught by surprise when a pair of soft lips met his, and a small beard tickled his face. The Stark had leaned in and swallowed his vocalizations in a kiss. Caught between pleasure and pleasure, the Targaryen submitted and allowed the dark-haired man to explore his mouth with his tongue, breathing heavily in every pause he got.

Not long after he'd started, Rhaego felt himself bottom out, his bush buried between supple cheeks and his cock cored out the Targaryen. Seeing Jon swallowing Aegon's moans sent a thrill of desire through him, and the urge to make his new bitch moan loud enough that the entire camp would hear him. He only gave Aegon a moment to to get used to his size before pulling back, feeling as the tight hole caught on his piercings as he pulled out. As his cockhead caught the edge of Aegon's hole, he thrust his hips forward, hilting himself again.

Aegon gave a cry that the Stark swallowed whole as he felt the Dothraki begin to fuck into him. Each thrust hit his prostate a half-dozen times, thanks to the piercings.

"Pup," Rhaego said, making Jon break his kiss with Aegon. His new pet's cries loudening as his lips were unsealed. "Take his, let us see how well he can service two."

Jon gave him a nod and smile before pulling himself up. Looking at his main lover, he admired his hard eight inch shaft, as pale as the rest of his northern concubine and decently thick, which he then nudged against Aegon's lips.

The Targaryen could hardly think through the mind-bending pounding and pleasure of the Dothraki's assault, so he caught none of what passed between the two men. He did notice when Jon pulled away and his sounds were left to echo in the air, and then when the concubine's pale cock was set against his lips. It was smaller than the Khal's, but still substantial. Nevertheless, he was in a state such that he paid little attention, and when Jon pushed it into his open mouth he began to suck upon it almost by instinct.

Rhaego, seeing Aegon accept Jon's cock without hesitance, couldn't help but laugh. "Hah! Such a hungry pet, accepting my pups cock with nary a complaint after denying mine, maybe I'll have him use you after I've claimed you," he teased, feeling Aegon's hole clench around him as he spoke, his thrusts never stopping.

Aegon felt as if he was being spitted on a spear, though Jon was far more gentle than Rhaego, letting him take his cock at his own pace and ruffling his hair. The Dothraki, on the other hand, had never ceased his pounding into his ass. The Targaryen imagined that when he was done, his hole wouldn't close up for days. His own dick, in the meantime, had been rubbed against the soft cushions by the force of Rhaego's thrusts, and he could feel his orgasm nearing, against all will.

The hole around him seemed to flutter, growing tighter and tighter as his relentless thrusting continued. Each one drawing a moan or groan from Aegon. He could tell that his new pet was nearing release, and endeavoured to make him come undone from his cock alone. His thrusts never stopping, he reached one hand towards Jon and pulled his pup close, enveloping the others lips as he pounded Aegon even harder.

One last time, the ladder of piercings rutted over his prostate, and then Aegon climaxed, feeling as though he was spilling out of himself and into a blur of pleasure and sensation. The last thought he had before his mind went blank was that Jon had been right - it hadn't been long, and he had loved it.

Rhaego felt as Aegon's climax arrived, his hole clamping down on his cock as he shuddered, spurting into the pillows beneath him. Yet as Aegon came, his thrusts never slowed, and his passionate kiss with Jon only became deeper, continuing to thrust into his now blissed-out pet.

Slowly, Aegon came back to himself, but not fully. His mind still floated in a blissful place, somewhere between the fullness of his hindquarters and the fullness of his mouth. He could taste the pale concubine's pre flowing down his throat, could feel the fullness and heat of the Khal's cock inside him, was rocked by waves of pleasure through his body, but wasn't quite there. He heard his own pleasured cry as he came a second time, and felt the rough sting of the silken cushions against his sensitive cock.

Feeling his pet's second release, he nodded at Jon, his favored one nodding back as he reached up to his own chest, tweaking this nipples in effort to bring him closer, and a few moments later, came in Aegon's mouth.

The Targaryen was vaguely aware of some conversation passing over his head, but only became aware of its result when he felt the pale concubine's cock jump and pulse in his mouth, then tasted his thick cum as it poured out into his mouth. It was quite unlike any other load he'd tasted; sweet rather than salty, and without a bitter aftertaste. He drank it down eagerly, suckling at Stark's head until it ceased to give him the nectar he desired.

Seeing Jon go limp, his cock slipping free of Aegon's mouth, Rhaego shuffled his legs slightly before leaning forward, hooking his arms under his new pet before sitting up again, leaning back so that Aegon was resting on his chest, kneeling on the ground and still impaled on his cock. He could see the mess on the pillows beneath, several damp stains where he'd shot earlier and a dampness from the sweat pouring off the three of them. He could feel his release approaching, the desire to fully claim him surging and driving him on.

The lingering taste of the cum in his mouth, the sight of the other concubine - some part of Aegon wondered when he had added the 'other', but the rest of him was too occupied with sensation to care - and the feeling of the cock inside him shifting and rubbing against his insides was enough to drag Aegon's cock back to some level of hardness, though he whimpered at its sensitivity, such that even the breath of air over it was enough to hurt a little.

Feeling Aegon shift on his cock, the weak wimpers that he was releasing and the still feebly clenching hole was enough to drive Rhaego to the edge. He tightened his grip on the smaller man and vegan to buck up into the tight hole, thrusting nearly the entire twelve inches with each stroke, until he gave one final thrust, stilling as his cock began to jerk, spurting cum into his pet.

Aegon felt liquid heat and warmth burst within him, and that and the final hammer-blow into his prostate wrung a third orgasm out of him. He wailed as his cock leapt and jumped spasmodically, sending thin lines of white droplets spattering over Jon's muscular stomach. Then he sagged, exhausted by the lovemaking and held up only by Rhaego's strong arm and cock within him. Head lolling, he looked down at his stomach and was distantly startled to see it bulging outwards ever-so-slightly, though whether that was the cock or the cum he didn't know, and didn't care to guess. As he did so, he could feel more of the Dothraki's seed being pumped into him, and he idly wondered how much there would be in the end, and when Rhaego would finish. He half-expected him to just go on forever.

Rhaego panted as he came down from his release, basking in the glow of having claimed another, shown absolute dominance over them. His flood of cum slowed to a trickle before ceasing, but even with his load spent, his cock remained hard within Aegon. He could feel his lust wasn't yet stated, but knew that his newest conquest wouldn't be be up for another round quite yet, and while the idea was tempting, didn't want to scare him off before he'd settled in. 

He adjusted his arms to lift Aegon off, his still hard cock coming out of his pet with a 'pop', and a trickle of cum flowing out of the slightly agape hole.

Aegon felt the cock slowly retreat from within him, the bars catching gently on his rim as they left. He felt empty and hollowed-out, like a wine pitcher emptied to the last dregs, and hung in the Khal's arms like a limp rag.

He gently lay Aegon down on a dry section of pillows as Jon came over, a wet cloth in had which he used to gently wipe whatever cum was clinging to Aegon off, cleaning the mess on his abs. The two working to make sure that the newly claimed concubine was taken care of as he recovered from the brutal fuck. But as they worked, their attention gradually shifted from Aegon to one another. 

Rhaego would let his hands brush against Jon's, eventually trailing up his arms and onto his chest, drawing his pup closer before sealing their lips together once more. His still hard cock rubbing against the slightly smaller man.

Jon leaned into the kiss as he had done so many times before, moving closer to press his skin against Rhaego's. His cock rutted against the other's, toughing the hard ridges of the piercings. His eyes were half-lidded; even with all his experience with the Khal, he was drawn in.

His hands encircled Jon's waist, creeping towards his ass, fingers kneading the muscular globes. Just as his fingers were about to slip into the well trained hole, a commotion outside the tent and the sound of approaching boots drew his attention away. 

Releasing Jon, he turned towards the tents opening, just in time to see one of his blood riders enter. 

"What?" He growled, displeased at having his time with his concubines interrupted.

The bloodrider, Anakko, cast his eyes to the floor in respect. "A delegation comes from the city, begging peace and bringing tribute."

"Can they not give it to the quartermasters?" Rhaego grumbled.

"They say they wish to abase themselves before the Khal of All Khals," the bloodrider replied, "To pay their respects."

He couldn't help but sigh at this. And while he wish he could delay meeting them, he knew that fostering a positive view of them was useful for his long term goals, and leaving them waiting would the detrimental to that. 

"Very well, I'll be there in a moment," he said, dismissing Anakko. 

Turning to Jon, he gave him a sad smile. "Seems we must put this off for now pup. Help me dress and then tend to your new companion, I'll return in a few bells."

Jon pouted, but obeyed, climbing to his feet and picking up the various articles of clothing which had been strewn about the inside of the tent. If he took the opportunity to catch an extra feel or press quick lips to a curve of skin, who could blame him? But before long his work was done, and Rhaego was ready.

Rhaego bent down, capturing Jon's lips briefly before pulling away, the kiss gentle as opposed to hungry. Pulling away, he set out of the tent towards the delegation, subtly adjusting his still hard cock.

Jon watched the man go, feeling the familiar well of disappointment open up within him, as it did every time he was denied his Khal's love and attention, but it was only a small thing. And besides, he had a duty of his own to attend to. He looked over at where Rhaego's new lover was lying back on the cushions.

With a sigh, we went about helping Aegon get more comfortable, knowing that it would likely be some time before the freshly fucked man would be coherent again, and ready to hear the explanation as to what Rheago was planning, and more importantly, why.

Once the silver-haired man was nestled into a hollow in the cushions, Jon took a cloth and a basin of water warmed over a candle flame and wiped off the remnants of Aegon's seed, then did the same for the prince as well. As he did so, he cast an assessing eye over him. Aegon was certainly handsome, in a fine-boned sort of way, and however he had lived his life, it had not been as a closeted princeling. It made sense. This world, like the other, was not one that was kind to those that couldn't fight, especially if they wished to claim - or reclaim - a throne.

With another sigh, the northman climbed down into the hollow behind Aegon and drew their bodies together. He would have more to do later, for certain, and likely a great deal to explain, but he would take what rest he could for now.


End file.
